


Not Your Baby Girl Anymore

by Tomoka0013



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cunnilingus, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Masturbation in Shower, Mildly Dubious Consent, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 04:15:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1674362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomoka0013/pseuds/Tomoka0013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slight canon divergence from Captain America: The Winter Soldier, no real spoilers for the movie. Set before the events of CATWS. Rumlow saves a little girl from a Red Room safe house years prior to CATWS, raises her, and she decides she's all grown up now and doesn't need Rumlow as a father figure anymore. Rumlow's not 100% comfortable with the situation, but eventually gives in. Rated E for explicit descriptions of sex, and Rumlow's dirty mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Your Baby Girl Anymore

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first fic I've written in years, and the first hetero one I've done in like 10 years, but I couldn't help get this stuck in my head. It started out as just a drabble, and yeah progressed from there. I've also never used AO3 before, so if I missed any applicable tags, please let me know! Thanks!

She laid her head in his lap as he was watching mindless late night TV, enjoying a beer and trying to unwind from another stressful day at work. The girl, she couldn't have been more than eighteen, whimpered and pressed her face into his stomach trying to unsuccessfully stifle another sob.  
"Breathe baby girl. It was just a nightmare. You're not in the Red Room anymore, you're here safe with me, remember?" He said soothingly, stroking her hair softly.  
"I know." She mumbled against him, the words coming out clumsily between sniffles. "It just seemed so real. What if they find me? What if HE finds me?"  
Rumlow set his beer down, and pinching the bridge of his nose, let out a low sigh, "Mischa, we've been through this before. No one from the Red Room is getting near you again. I'll make sure of it. Come here." He said tugging her up to pull her into an embrace, kissing the top of her head. "I think it's time to get you back to bed."  
"Don't wanna." She muttered, straddling his lap and burying her face in the crook of his neck. She could feel his body stiffen uncomfortably against her, she rolled her hips experimentally against his.  
"Mischa, what are you doing?" Rumlow asked carefully, hoping the girl had been unaware of the position she had put the two of them in.  
"I want this Brock." She whispered hotly against his ear, moving her hips again, whining at the sensation.  
"Mischa, this is wrong. I've raised you since you were 8." Rumlow could feel his self-control starting to waiver. It had been far too long since he had been with anyone. He'd been married a long time ago, to his high school sweetheart, Synthia Schmidt. They’d had a little girl too; she'd be about the same age as Mischa if she were still alive. Since then, he hadn't let anyone get close to him, at first it was the grief that kept him closed up, then it was Mischa. He'd found the girl almost 10 years ago, during a raid of a Red Room safe house near Siberia. He wouldn't leave her there alone, and she refused to leave his side when he took her back to the states. He'd taken on the role of being a single father, with no complaints. It was almost like having a second chance with his little girl. Almost.  
"I'm not your daughter Brock. There's nothing wrong about this." She looked him in the eyes while she said it, almost like she was daring him to say otherwise. She was gorgeous, despite her slightly puffy red eyes, and rosy nose. Rumlow had never noticed before how lovely she had become. She was no longer the starved, beaten little girl he had pulled out of the Red Room.  
"Mischa, I just don't see you like this." he hesitated. She seized her opportunity and lightly pressed her lips against his. It was awkward, and inexperienced. Shit, Rumlow thought to himself. He could feel his cock twitch unwanted against the weight of Mischa in his lap, at the feeling of her soft lips pressed against his, at her body pressed flush to his.  
"That's it. You're going back to bed. NOW." Rumlow exclaimed through gritted teeth. He stood up abruptly, sending Mischa crashing gracelessly to the floor. She had started crying again as he hoisted her over his shoulder effortlessly and carried her off to her room. He dumped her unceremoniously onto her bed.  
"No, please don't leave me all alone." she sobbed, "I'll be good Brock, I promise. I just can't...I just don't want to be..." she couldn't finish her sentences, between her hiccupping cries.  
Rumlow sighed as he slammed the door behind him and strode across his small S.H.I.E.L.D sanctioned apartment. He went straight to the bathroom, breathing erratically as he stripped himself and turned the water on as cold as it could get. He shivered violently as he plunged himself under the stream. "Dammit Rumlow. What the fuck is wrong with you?" he chastised himself. "Getting a hard-on from your own damn kid." He scowled, tried to focus on the cold, but it did little to help his situation. Brock turned the water to scalding hot, trying not to think of how Mischa had looked at him. He groaned and wrapped a hand around his still hard cock, giving it a few slow strokes.  
He struggled to concentrate on other women, that cute girl in statistics, another in accounting, Romanoff, he'd even tried thinking about Steve Rogers, just to get his mind on anything else. With each tentative stroke he couldn't block out the soft pout of her full lips, the baby soft skin, how her tiny frame fit so well against his body. The way she had wriggled in his lap, he shook his head trying to drive the girl from his mind. His hand sped up its movements and he leaned his left hand against the shower wall, digging his forehead against the slick wall. He tried not to imagine what it would be like to take her, make her beg for him, scream his name, belong to him entirely.  
"Fuck!" Rumlow cried out as his orgasm hit him unexpectedly, the thick white ropes splashing against the tile. He pulled in deep ragged breaths and ran a hand through his hair, "Fuck." he mumbled again, he took a few moments to clean himself up, thinking it was so wrong to think about Mischa like that, but thinking about it wouldn't hurt, as long as he could keep himself from acting on it. Drying himself off, and pulling on a black tank and boxer-briefs he sank into his too soft bed, settling into a fitful night sleep.

***  
When Mischa woke the next morning there was a note on her place at the table along with a bowl of cooling cream of wheat. "Got called in early. Try not to get in trouble at school; we'll talk about what happened last night later. Love you baby girl." She read Rumlow's note out loud to herself, she could hear the disapproval oozing from his tone. Frowning she dug into her breakfast, dreading the day to come.  
"Hey." Natasha smiled slyly at Mischa as she pulled up outside her high school in a sleek muscle car. "Your Dad's stuck working on some paperwork, something about unauthorized killing." she said casually.  
"Brock's NOT my Dad." she shot back venomously in Russian - a habit that tended to happen when she was upset. "Why didn't he send Rollins? Or Rogers?" she questioned pacing over to the car.  
"Rollins was involved in the incident, and Captain America has more important things to do than pick you up, I was free today, so I volunteered; besides I figured you could use a girl’s day." She replied completely brushing off Mischa's hostility. "Steve mentioned something about sexy panties?" she asked as Mischa climbed into the car, "Care to elaborate on that?"  
"Um." she replied biting her lip, there was no way she was going to tell Natasha that she'd thrown herself at Rumlow and had been shut down entirely. "There's a guy I like, and I'm hoping it'll get pretty serious soon, I uh can't exactly ask Brock to buy me lingerie. He still thinks I'm 10. I don't think he's ready to handle me being with a guy, like that." She rambled on.  
Natasha frowned, "He doesn't know you're seeing someone?"  
"I'm not seeing anyone yet, I just, I HOPE I will be soon, that’s all. Trust me, Brock knows about him, He's not exactly thrilled." she said looking away.  
"He just doesn't want to see his little girl all grown up; it’s a dad thing, besides it probably makes him feel old as hell, not as old as Rogers, but still pretty old." she replied thoughtfully.  
"I told you already, he's NOT my Dad." Mischa huffed.  
"Ok, ok forget I said anything." Natasha looked at her out of the corner of her eye, Mischa's cheeks were flushed from exasperation, it was cute. They pulled into the mall parking lot and headed for her favorite boutique.  
They picked out a few cute, but sexy pairs of panties and headed to the food court, "So, um..." Mischa piped up softly, "How do I get a him to make a move?"  
"Why wait for him?" Natasha asked ripping a hunk of her cinnamon roll off and sticking it in her moth, licking some of the frosting off her fingers.  
"Um, because I don't know how to do ANYTHING. You think Brock's ever had 'the talk' with me? All I know is the fundamentals they teach you in school, and that just means it's a sin, blah blah blah and wait until you're married and all that bull." she frowned.  
"Well I can teach you a few tricks." she smirked. The two finished their snacks, while Natasha revealed a few of her secrets. She dropped Mischa off a few hours later, "Good luck lapushka." she called after her - waving as she drove off.  
***  
"So." Rumlow began as she walked in the door, "You wanna tell me what the hell you were thinking last night?" he asked in a low voice.  
Mischa was grateful she had the foresight to cram the bag from the lingerie store into her backpack before she walked in the door. "What do you mean Brock?" she asked trying to feign innocence.  
"Well we could start with you walking around the apartment in nothing but MY t-shirt and a pair of underwear. Or we could start with you straddling my lap, or with you kissing me." he snarled.  
She dropped her bag and flushed a deep red before trying to cross the apartment to make it to her room, before she could get far he had grabbed her by the arms spinning her so she was facing him. She looked down immediately, it wasn't hard to avoid eye contact, Rumlow was almost a full foot taller than her.  
"Well baby girl? I'm waiting for your answer, what the hell were you thinking?" he snapped at her.  
"I'm NOT your baby girl anymore Brock!" she exclaimed. "I'll prove it too you!" she stood up on her tip toes, trying to kiss Rumlow.  
He scoffed, pulling away from her, "You think all it takes is a kiss to make you a grown ass woman? You've got a lot to learn." he said coldly, before pushing past her towards the door, "I'm going out, and you can bet your ass you're grounded, indefinitely."  
"Brock!" She called out after him as he slammed the door behind him, "Shit Shit. Shit. Shit!" Mischa reprimanded herself sinking to the floor, leaning against the door. "What am I supposed to do now?" she wondered out loud.

The next morning she sat silently at the table, eyes fixed on her breakfast, trying not to look at Rumlow.  
He sighed, "Look I get it. You're a teenager, you have hormones, you’re all mixed up and all that, but Mischa, I'm not the one. I took you in, raised you, looked after you all these years, even if you don't see me as your Father, and I know I'm not. I see myself as your Father, and that's a line I'm not willing to cross." he barked out harshly.  
She winced at his tone, blinking rapidly, trying not the cry, "I'm sorry." she said softly.  
"If you're having trouble finding a guy at school, I can try to find you a date at S.H.I.E.L.D. There's a kid named Grant, he's about the right age for you, or at least a lot closer than I am. He’s smart and good looking too." Rumlow said softly.  
"Not interested." she mumbled, "I'm going now, I don't need detention on top of rejection!" She exclaimed grabbing he bag and running out the door.  
Rumlow rubbed his temples trying to stay the oncoming headache, "Does she have to make it so hard to say no?" he muttered to himself when he was sure Mischa was gone, frowning he stepped outside to light a cigarette, hoping to calm his nerves. He knew Mischa didn't like it when he smoked, and he had been trying to quit for years, but today he couldn't say no to another thing he knew was bad for him, but he wanted none the less.  
***  
The next few days were quite a test of Rumlow's self-control; Mischa seemed to be doing her best to make sure he noticed her. She was in the kitchen making something for them to eat, wearing nothing but a pair of low cut panties and one of Rumlow's S.T.R.I.K.E shirts she was bent over digging around the crisper drawer, ass up in the air, wiggling it as she rifled through the drawer. Rumlow had been walking in to get a beer out of the fridge and was met with this sight. He couldn't help but stare, swallowing thickly as he surveyed her long slight legs, her round firm butt, the flimsy material hanging low, showing off every curve. Rather than play into her hand, he merely walked right up behind her and reached over her shoulder to grab his beer, "What's for dinner?" he asked gruffly.  
She started, but spun around quickly bumping against his rock hard chest, she placed a hand against him, before steading herself, taking in a deep breath, and pulling him against her.  
Rumlow pushed her away abruptly, "Get dressed, we're going out."  
"Like on a date?" she asked hopefully.  
"No." he answered shortly, throwing on a jacket.  
The next day was even worse, when he got home from work; Mischa waltzed out of his room wearing nothing but a towel, his eyes raked over her.  
She turned around and smirked let the towel drop as she sauntered towards her room, "Oops! she bent over slowly making a show out of her towel retrieval.  
He groaned at the sight, he could feel his cock twitch in his pants; she was playing dirty now, how the hell was he supposed to resist this kind of invitation. "You're playing a dangerous game baby girl." he warned.  
She turned around, toweling her hair off, looking at him confidently as her full perky breasts bounced slightly as she continued to rub the towel through her hair. "Hm? Did you say something Brock?"  
"Nothing at all." he forced out a smile, and headed past her to flop casually on the couch, flicking on the TV, looking for anything to distract himself.  
Mischa was looking through the different pairs of underwear she and Natasha had picked out, and settled on a strappy, lacey thong, looking at the thing was enough to make her blush. "This has to get the point across." she slipped it on, and pulled on Rumlow's S.T.R.I.K.E t-shirt she always wore to bed, it was big enough on her that it would cover her surprise until she wanted him to see it. "Ok, this time I'm not taking no for an answer." she told herself, and walked confidently out to the living room.  
She sat down next to Rumlow, wrapping herself around one of his strong arms, pressing her face into his toned chest, and looked up at him with big blue eyes, "What's on?" she tried to ask innocently enough.  
"Tigers are playing, up 2 nothing in the bottom of the 3rd inning." he replied, catching her gaze, "Are you wearing make-up?" he asked incredulously.  
"Just a little eye-liner and mascara." she replied softly, leaning further against his body, shifting to try and get a good shot of pulling herself into his lap when he wasn't expecting it.  
Rumlow just nodded and went back to watching the game, he was tense with her against him like this, "Wearing perfume now too?" he asked casually.  
"Nah, just a new body wash." she said sighing softly, nuzzling against him, she briefly turned her attention to the game, someone had hit a grand-slam and Rumlow was watching intently. She took a chance and made her move; straddling his waist, locking her arms around his neck, nipped lightly at his mouth trying to initiate a proper kiss. When Rumlow did nothing but purse his lips together and sit there motionlessly she pulled back, unsure how to get her point across better. She had no experience with boys or girls she'd never been on a date, never kissed anyone, had never even hugged anyone, other than Rumlow. She was going off of what Natasha had told her to do, trying to mimic the couples she often saw kissing in the halls at school, but she didn't know how to do it properly. She had just hoped by now Rumlow would feel the same way, and take the lead and show her how it was done, she never expected him to feel differently. "Please." She whispered, eyes glistening with unshed tears, she shifted in his lap.  
An unbidden groan fell from Rumlow's lips as she rubbed against him. He tried to tell himself he didn't want this, that he didn't see her like this, but it became harder, and harder to fight her advances and she kept wiggling in his lap and begging him over and over. He was struggling with himself, what was right at what was wrong. "She's not REALLY my kid." he tried to reason with himself, he thought about the years he'd spent with her, all the stupid dance recitals he'd been at, all the god-awful school plays he'd cheered for her at. "I can't, I just can't do this." he said softly.  
Rocking her hips against the growing bulge in Rumlow's pants she moaned his name out loud as she had started to grind herself against him. "Please." she urged him.  
She wants this though, he thought. He was still wrestling with this decisions, but made up his mind that he could live with himself if he did this, and it'd be better with him than with some inexperienced asshole at her school. With his mind made up, Rumlow's resolve broke. He tangled his fingers in her long black hair, tilting her head slightly and pressing his lips hotly against hers. He teased her mouth open with his tongue as he coaxed her tongue out of her mouth. She whimpered greedily against his searing mouth, his rough stubble scratching perfectly against her soft skin. This wasn’t how she had expect this to go, her train of thought was shattered as she full on moaned into his mouth as he bit down on her bottom lip, tugging impatiently.  
She kissed back desperately, her clumsy, eager lips trying to keep up with his demanding mouth. Rumlow groaned against her hotly as he felt his cock straining against his pants. He pulled back from her slightly. "Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked her, looking into her blown pupils, then down at her full pouty, red lips.  
"I don't want this, I need this. I need you Brock. It's the only thing I've ever been sure of in my entire life.'" She panted softly, trying to catch her breath.  
"Ok." He replied softly, moving in to kiss her slowly, thoroughly, taking his time to claim her as his own. He trailed down her neck, kissing and nipping the length of it before reaching her collar bone and sinking his teeth into her soft flesh.  
She cried out, throwing her head back, moaning at the sensation, this went well beyond her imagination she didn't really know what to do, but she wanted to give everything she could to him. Her fingernails scratched at the cropped hair at the base of his neck, an unfamiliar sensation beginning to coil itself in her lower belly. He ground his clothed cock up against her drenched panties, rumbling contently against her throat.  
"Brock please." She pleaded, not knowing what she was pleading for, she just knew she wanted more; she rolled her hips against his again, and was rewarded with another groan.  
He stood up easily, taking the girl with him, lacing his fingers underneath her perfectly full butt, and strode off towards his room. Rumlow going completely on instinct now, he hadn't been someone's "first time" in 20+ years, and he wasn't going to fuck it up by over thinking it. He laid her down on his bed and crawled over her, a predatory grin spread across his face as he surveyed the flushed, writhing girl. He pulled the loose fitting tee, one of his he noted to himself, off of her smirking in approval as he could take in the sight of her mostly naked body.  
"Christ baby girl, you're perfect." He breathed against her ear before dipping down and catching one of her soft nipples in his mouth. He was rewarded with a high pitched yelp as he rolled his tongue over the hardening bud. He licked, kissed and scraped his way over to her other perfect breast and sucked at it almost reverently, as he reached back to palm himself through his pants, trying to alleviate some of the mounting pressure.  
She was pulling in shuddering breaths, as she started to pull at his shirt. He chuckled against her breasts; as he pulled back straddling her waist as he pulled the offending article of clothing over his head. She couldn't help but moan at the sight of Rumlow's cut body, her eyes roving hungrily over his rippling biceps, his perfect pecks, and his washboard abs. He smirked, he knew he had a nice body, but it was nice to see someone other than his subordinates on the S.T.R.I.K.E team admiring it. "More." she demanded, pulling at his pants.  
He barked out a laugh at that, "You're pretty impatient for someone who doesn't even know what she's getting herself into." He trailed his fingertips down her body stopping at her panty line.  
Her eyes narrowed at the comment, "I've been waiting for you to notice me for years Brock." she huffed indignantly at him  
"Maybe you should have tried harder." He chastised, before undoing his belt buckle, popping his fly open, and wriggling out of his fatigues.  
She could see the outline of his cock perfectly defined against the tight fabric of Rumlow's tight, black, boxer briefs. She swallowed audibly, he was huge, she could tell even without having anything to compare him to.  
Rumlow slipped his thumbs into the silky material of her lacey, low cut panties, he frowned slightly, "Where the hell did you get these? I know I sure as hell never bought them for you."  
"Steve." She muttered flushing red with embarrassment.  
"Captain freaking America bought you lacey panties?" Rumlow cocked an eyebrow up in disbelief.  
"No!" She exclaimed blushing deeply, "I asked Steve to ask Agent Romanoff the last time he was over. Told him I wanted a nice pair of underwear and I couldn't ask YOU for them." She was squirming under his surveying gaze. “When Natasha picked me up from school last week, she helped me pick them out.”  
"Romanoff has good taste." Rumlow smirked at the mental image of how flustered Steve Rogers must have been at her request, before he pulled the expertly sourced panties down. He hummed in approval, apparently Romanoff told her to shave too. Rumlow pushed her legs apart as he ran a finger experimentally along her slit. His eyes darkened with lust "You're this wet for me already, baby girl." Rumlow practically purred.  
Her whole body shivered and shook under his light touch, as he pressed a kiss against her defined hipbone before running his tongue over her soft mound. She cried out, her fists curling in the sheets. She moaned his name, eyes screwing tightly shut as his tongue circled her clit, she was shaking, and she felt pressure building up inside her.  
Rumlow groaned against her hotly as he sucked lightly on her clit, slipping a finger inside her. "Fuck." He hissed as she bucked against him and he pushed another finger inside. She whined at the slight discomfort, he flattened his tongue against her.  
"I," she stammered "I...I want you... in me." she panted out; "Please?" her whole body trembled against him.  
"Gimme a second." Rumlow muttered, before sliding his fingers out of her and crawling off the bed and scrounging around his dresser drawers, there had to be a condom somewhere. He frowned as he continued to dig, until his hand finally closed around a foil packet.  
She could feel the bed sag under his weight; she was well beyond, excited and nervous, she didn't even know how to describe it. This was the moment she had been waiting for what seemed like forever.  
Rumlow settled himself between her legs and kissed her deeply, she moaned as she could taste herself on his lips. "You sure about this baby girl? Last chance to change your mind." He leveled his gaze with hers, searching for any doubt, or fear in her eyes.  
"I need you Brock." She repeated softly, her eyes sparkling with an unsure combination of adoration and eagerness.  
Rumlow gave her another soft peck before peeling himself out of his shorts and groaning as he gave his cock a light stroke before rolling the condom on. He started to push in slowly; he buried his face in her neck to stifle his loud groan.  
She tensed up, breathing in rapid shallow breaths, tears pricking at her eyes, her finger nails digging into his well-muscled back.  
Rumlow stilled, trying to let her body adjust to him. "You're so fucking tight." he moaned in her ear, "So fucking perfect." he growled pushing in deeper, as he used his thumb to circle her clit, distracting her from the pain. He pushed until his long, thick cock was buried balls deep in her tight pussy, filling her to the brim, and waited for her to make the next move.  
She rocked her hips tentatively against his cock, whining as a jolt of pleasure and pain jolted up her spine. She clenched around him, gasping out his name in a breathy, strained voice.  
Rumlow growled low in the back of his throat as any shred of self-control he had left was ripped away. He grabbed her hips and pulled her partially up off the bed, her back bowing as he pulled out slowly before snapping his hips forward, plunging into her tight hole. He grinned darkly at the thin trickle of blood running down her curve of her behind, "Mine." he growled possessively, nipping at ear lobe before pulling her up so she was seated in his lap, his cock still buried inside her.  
She instinctively wrapped her legs around him, "Yours" she panted, this position was driving Rumlow even deeper inside her. She ached around him, but it the pain was being quickly overridden by pleasure.  
He pulled her up by her hips, leaving just the tip of his cock inside her; he thrust up into her, pulling another shaking moan from her mouth. Her whole body was trembling as Rumlow continued to fuck her.  
"Brock." She started, mewling softly, almost desperately. "I...I..." another cry tumbled from her mouth, she couldn't put into words what she needed, didn't even know what was happening, she just felt her whole body tighten up, and shake uncontrollably.  
"Come for me baby girl." Rumlow growled against her ear as he pulled her down sharply on his cock.  
She threw her head back, crying his name as her first orgasm ripped through her body. Her head lolled forward resting against his shoulder; she was slipping in and out of consciousness coming down from her high.  
"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Gonna come." Rumlow ground out as, her fucked her through her release, her walls pulsing and clenching around his cock. He managed a few more, sharp erratic thrusts before stilling, and roared as he came, buried inside her tight snatch.  
She was clinging to him weakly, exhausted, but beaming, "I love you, Brock." she whispered, resting her head against his shoulder.  
"Yeah." Rumlow chuckled softly, "I love you too, baby girl."


End file.
